


racing on the thunder and rising with the heat

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: DCU (Comics), Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Modern Era, Resurrection, Spoilers!, Steve adjusts to the modern world, ignores Batman vs. Superman okay, is mostly based on the Wonder Woman movie though, kind of draws from comics canon? but it's a bit of a mash-up, they say that the past is another country, well so is 2017 compared to 1918, you don't need to be familiar with the comics to read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-16 01:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11243769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: SPOILERS!!!He gasps back to life in an agonizing instant.





	1. Back to Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit hit-and-miss with DCU canon, because I haven't read many DC comics in a long time. You don't need to be familiar with comics canon to read this - Steve doesn't know who anyone is, either. ;)

** Chapter One **

Steve gasps back to life in an agonizing instant.

Still gasping, he pushes himself up onto his elbows. He discovers that around him are a crowd of people also climbing to their feet. Most of them are soldiers, but unlike Steve, they’re not the good guys. Steve knows a German military uniform when he sees one.

Standing some distance away is a woman in a black cloak. Steve can hear her speaking from here. 

“So many dead follow you, Wonder Woman,” says the woman in the black cloak, and that is definitely the speech of a gloating villain. “Perhaps you should deal with _them_!”

Here and there are a smattering of people not in German uniform, but like the others in the crowd, they are all advancing on –

Steve’s heart stutters as he gets a good look at the two people in the distance. One is a man in blue and red, held back by some kind of transparent green barrier, and the other...

Steve would recognise that blue, red and gold armour anywhere.

_ Diana _ , he doesn’t say. He struggles to his feet, every muscle aching, and shuffles forward with the others.

If Steve correctly understands this situation – if it is understandable at all, which is definitely debatable – then the woman in the black cloak has somehow summoned him and a bunch of other dead guys in order to win some kind of fight against Diana.

Steve doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, but he knows one thing. Diana would never fight anyone who hadn’t done something to deserve it.

Diana is fighting off the other soldiers, and the woman in the black cloak cackles, watching the battle with such eagerness that she never notices as Steve casually walks up behind her. 

She does notice, however, when Steve’s hand lands on her shoulder.

“What–” she begins, jerking her head around to face him, and is promptly punched in the face. She drops to the ground unconscious.

Diana makes short work of the last of the German soldiers just as the transparent barrier separating her from the man in blue and red vanishes. 

“I hate sorcerers,” Diana grumbles, loud enough for Steve to hear. And then –

Diana looks up, just in time to meet Steve’s gaze.

The blood drains from her face.

“ _Steve?”_

Steve tries to smile. By some miracle, it comes out the way he means it.

“Hi,” he says, and then, “I have to ask: raising the dead? People can do that, now?”

Apparently that is the wrong thing to say, because Diana’s face crumples.

“ _Steve–”_

“Whoa, hey,” he says, alarmed by the look on her face, “it’s okay – Diana – it’s really me, I swear–”

The next second Diana barrels into him. Steve automatically brings up his arms to hold her steady, even though it seems she doesn’t need him to. Diana reaches up to touch his face, her expression filled with wonder and disbelief.

“It _is_ you,” she says. “I cannot believe – after all this time–”

Steve lets a smile curl his mouth, and pulls her closer.

“It’s pretty unbelievable, huh?” he agrees. Then he frowns. “How much time?”

Instead of answering, Diana kisses him.

Much as Steve would like answers, he is also acutely aware that he was dead until a few minutes ago, and he thought he’d never have the chance to kiss Diana again. He returns her embrace with fervour.

After a couple of minutes, someone politely clears their throat.

Diana breaks the kiss, flushing a little, and turns to look at the man in blue and red, who is standing a short distance away, looking awkward.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he says, with a sincerity that’s disconcerting (Steve didn’t think anyone but Diana could manage that much sincerity in one go), “but we don’t know how long the spell will last, Diana.”

“All the more reason to kiss him,” Diana retorts, but sighs, and puts a little more distance between herself and Steve. “Kal, this is Steve. We...” and she hesitates.

Steve wonders, with sudden worry, what that hesitation means.

“I think I get the idea,” says the man Diana calls Kal, his voice dry. He holds out a hand to Steve. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Superman.”

Steve looks at him askance, but shakes his hand.

“Right.”

“His name is Kal-El, but his code name is Superman,” Diana explains, which makes a little more sense. “He is from another planet.”

That part definitely doesn’t.

“He – what?” Steve blinks. “Really?”

“Really,” says Superman, with a grin. 

“He and I are part of an organisation full of people with extraordinary abilities who wish to protect this planet,” Diana continues. “He is also a good friend.”

“Oh.” Steve casts a doubtful look at the man. Superman certainly has an impressive physique. If Steve were anyone else, he might be feeling a little jealous right now.

But he’s not. Definitely not. Nope.

“Well, I’m Captain Steve Trevor,” he says to Superman. “Uh... what year is it?”

“Steve–” Diana begins, but in the same moment Superman says, “2017.”

Steve staggers like he’s been dealt a physical blow. Diana quickly moves to hold him up.

“I’m fine – I’m fine,” he says weakly, finding his feet again. 

Diana hovers at his elbow, looking concerned. 

Steve can’t believe it. He knew that time must have passed, but this much...

“Ninety-nine – it’s been _ninety-nine_ years?”

“The world has changed a great deal,” says Diana, as uncertain as he’s ever seen her.

“I’ll take care of this mess,” says Superman. He looks sympathetic. “You should contact the Watchtower and explain the situation.”

Diana grimaces, but agrees. 

“I should.”

“Apart from anything else,” Superman says gently, “it would be good to know whether the resurrection spell is permanent.”

“Uh, yeah,” says Steve. “I’m with you on that one.” He looks back at the German soldiers lying on the ground. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I mean... that’s a lot of soldiers to deal with. If any of them wake up, you could be in trouble.”

Superman blinks, looking taken-aback, before he grins.

“They won’t be a problem.”

Diana puts a hand on Steve’s arm. He looks at her, to see that her expression is amused.

“Steve, Superman is as powerful as I am.”

“Oh.” 

Steve suddenly feels foolish.

“Thanks for the consideration,” says Superman, and his smile is genuine. “But I should be fine, now the sorceress is down.”

“Kal is not so good with magic,” Diana says.

“Who is?” Steve asks, genuinely questioning, and Superman laughs.

“Come on.” Diana tugs gently at Steve’s arm. “I parked the jet this way.”

“Jet?”

“You’ll see.”

Steve follows Diana over to an innocuous-looking patch of dirt. Then Diana reaches out to touch something that isn’t there, and the next second, Steve sucks in a breath as suddenly there is a plane in front of him.

It is unlike any plane Steve has ever seen, all sleek, smooth lines. There is no propeller, and only two wings, which instead of sticking out straight come outwards at an angle like a bird of prey’s wings in mid-dive. Two wing-like flaps stick upwards off the back of the plane. A panel of glass separates the cockpit from the open air.

The only thing Steve has ever seen that is more beautiful is Diana.

“Wow,” he says, and his voice comes out soft and awed.

“I see that you like it,” says Diana, and she sounds amused.

“That’s – that’s a plane?” Steve manages. “It looks like the Platonic Idea of planes. What kind of a plane is it?”

“I am told that it is a Wayne Industries L22 Raptor,” says Diana. “Specially modified. It was a gift from a friend.”

“They must be some friend,” says Steve, his eyes still glued to the aircraft. “Can I fly it? Please?”

“Not until you have a modern pilot’s licence,” says Diana. “This is very different from a 1918 biplane, Steve.”

She climbs up into the cockpit, offering Steve a hand up. Steve settles into his seat. There is some kind of harness, which he does up with some difficulty. As he watches, Diana settles into the seat in front, and does up her own harness. Steve watches in fascination around the corners of her seat as she goes through the pre-flight checks. Then she starts the engine.

“So, says Steve, “how fast–”

The plane moves.

The answer is: _extremely_ fast.

Twenty minutes later, they land in a large hanger. Diana parks the plane in what appears to be a reserved space.

“I want one,” Steve declares, as he climbs out of the cockpit. He is grinning from ear to ear.

“Of course you do.” Diana rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. The smile fades as he watches. “We should call Zatanna, and find out how long the magic which brought you back will last.”

Steve feels his mood plummet. He'd forgotten.

“Right,” he agrees. “That would be a good idea.”

Across the other side of the hanger are a row of small booths enclosed by glass. They’re just about big enough for a human being to stand inside. Steve allows himself to be ushered into one.

“Why am I standing in a glass box?” he asks, as Diana goes to close the glass door.

“It is a teleportation booth,” Diana says, shutting the door.

“What’s a teleportation booth?” Steve asks the empty air. In the next second, his question is answered.

His skin suddenly tingles, and when he blinks, the view outside the booth is completely different. Steve stares. He is still staring when Diana steps out of the booth next to his and opens the door to his own.

“What just happened?” he asks Diana.

“Teleportation,” says Diana.

“Yeah, I guessed that from the name ‘teleportation booth.’ But what’s teleportation?”

Diana looks suddenly abashed.

“It is a method of instantaneous travel from one point in space to another, without traversing the space in-between,” she says. While Steve is still trying to grasp that idea, she adds, “I am sorry. So much has changed since I saw you that it is difficult for me to remember what you will not know.”

“Right,” says Steve. It seems the safest answer.

Diana smiles at him, and takes his hand, pulling him out of the booth. Steve goes with her willingly, despite his considerable confusion.

He wonders who the ‘Zatanna’ person is that Diana wants him to see, and how they are supposed to know whether the spell that brought him back to life will wear off or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be at least one more chapter of this - possibly more than that.


	2. The Watchtower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may end up finishing this here, or I may write more later. We'll see.

** Chapter Two **

Zatanna turns out to be a dark-haired woman who not only performs stage shows in Las Vegas as a particularly talented stage magician, but also performs _real magic_.

“The world has changed a lot since 1918,” Steve mumbles to himself, as he’s poked and prodded by the magician, who is frowning.

Zatanna blinks at him. 

“Well, yes.” She takes another look at the German uniform he’s wearing, as though seeing it for the first time. “I wasn’t aware that Wonder Woman’s history here stretched so far back. I thought she was still on Paradise Island, a hundred years ago.”

“Ninety-nine years ago,” Steve corrects her. “And she was. It was where I met her. She pulled me out of the water when my plane crashed, and brought me to shore.” 

Zatanna looks at him curiously, but doesn’t ask any more questions, focusing instead, Steve presumes, on working out whether he’s going to be dead again any time soon.

The events of 1918 feel like they happened mere days ago. Steve feels like he’s only known Diana for a handful of days, and yet nearly a century of history has passed since they last saw each other. It’s fundamentally jarring. Steve can’t quite wrap his head around it.

“Well, I have good news for you,” Zatanna says finally. “Whatever spell your sorcerer used, the effects appear to be permanent. I see no reason why you shouldn’t live a normal lifespan, although I’d get a thorough medical scan, just to be sure.”

It’s a weight off Steve’s shoulders. It’s also a little bewildering. In the space of what seems like a few hours, he’s gone from preparing himself for his impending death to being brought back to life, in a time when, from what Diana said, the Great War is over. There is no reason Steve cannot live out the rest of his life normally.

Steve has no idea how to even begin such a life, after four years of absolute war, except for the fact that he’s certain he wants Diana in it.

“Thank you,” he says. “Do you know where I can find Diana?”

“She’s probably filling the rest of the League in on what happened,” says Zatanna. “You should probably stay here until she has a chance to explain more of the modern world to you. As you said, the world has changed a lot since 1918.”

“Uh-huh,” says Steve, who has no intention of sitting and waiting. 

As soon as Zatanna is gone, he slips out of the room in search of Diana. He finds himself walking down a labyrinth of corridors, and almost immediately is completely lost.

He’s still walking when the corridor opens into a large room filled with tables and chairs and the smell of food. But it’s the sight behind them that makes Steve stop dead.

Outside the enormous panel of glass that acts as the left-hand-side wall, is an expanse of inky-black empty space, scattered with white dots. At the centre of the display is a large round ball, covered in green and brown and blue, with wisps of whiteness swirled around the surface.

Steve stares at it. He has no idea what he’s looking at. Every time he tries to comprehend it, his brain just... finds no frame of reference for what he’s seeing.

He walks over to the nearest table, where a group of people in strange clothing are sitting.

“Excuse me,” he says, and the conversation stops as they turn their heads to look at him. “Sorry to interrupt. But... what is that?” He gestures towards the incomprehensible sight behind the glass.

The people sitting at the table look at him strangely.

“Earth?” one of them suggests, their voice filled with the kind of confusion that says that the answer seems incredibly obvious, and they don’t know why he hasn’t worked out the answer for himself.

Steve stares blankly.

“What?”

“You know, Earth: the planet?” says the blonde girl whose clothing looks a lot like Superman’s.

It takes Steve a moment to understand. When he does, he has to grab the tabletop for support.

“We... that round ball is _Earth?_ ” It takes him a second to get the words out. “Then if we’re not on Earth.... where _are_ we?”

“We’re in the Watchtower,” says one of the others. “The Justice League’s space station?”

“Space... station?”

“Are you okay?” asks the blonde girl. The entire group is staring at him. “You’ve gone kind of pale.”

“I was right,” says Steve, mostly to himself. “A lot has changed since 1918.” And his legs give out under him.

Before he can hit the floor there’s a blur of blue and red, and next second, Steve finds that he’s been swept into a bridal carry by the blonde girl. Before he can protest the instinctive wrongness of this, she deposits him gently onto her empty seat. Steve grabs onto the tabletop and closes his eyes to shut out the sight of _the damned planet_ hanging suspended in blackness in front of him.

Someone rubs his back and tells him to breathe. Steve realises then that his breath is coming in panicky gasps. He tries to do as the voice says.

Finally, Steve feels okay enough to finally open his eyes again. When he does, the entire table is staring at him with worried expressions.

“So,” says a guy dressed all in green with some kind of symbol on his chest. “1918, huh?”

“Are you a time traveller?” asks a second blonde woman, this one in a black outfit that reveals rather more flesh than Steve is used to. He politely tries not to stare, reminding himself that clearly, a lot has changed in the last ninety-nine years.

“Not exactly,” says Steve. “Some sorceress resurrected me to try and fight Diana.”

“Diana?” pipes up the woman in blue and red. “You mean Wonder Woman?”

Steve’s brow crinkles.

“Wonder Woman?”

“Yeah – dark hair, dresses in blue, gold and red armour?” says the guy in green.

“I know who she is,” says Steve. “When did she start calling herself Wonder Woman?”

The people in front of him exchange looks.

“How did you say you know Diana, exactly?” asks the blonde lady in black, rather carefully.

Before Steve can answer, there’s a shout of “Steve!”

Steve turns towards that voice automatically, feeling a huge sense of relief.

Diana strides over, her expression less than impressed with him.

“Hi,” Steve tells her, with a smile that is only a little shaky.

“You were supposed to stay with Zatanna, Steve,” Diana says, her voice chiding.

“Zatanna left.”

“Then you should have stayed in the room and waited for me,” says Diana. Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Diana, if someone told you that ninety-nine years had passed and told you to stay put instead of exploring this new world, would you?” 

He knows damn well what the answer to that question is.

Diana just sighs.

“I had forgotten how much trouble you get into,” is all she says.

Steve splutters.

“ _Me?_ You’re the one who –! Come on, how many times have you gone charging into trouble when I told you to keep your head down and keep going?”

“You had no right to tell me anything,” Diana says. “And how many lives did I save, that day?” She stops, and a shadow passes over her face. Steve knows she must be thinking of Veld, of all the lives they thought they’d saved – right up until Dr Poison’s gas had hit the village, killing everyone.

Steve hates seeing that look on her face.

“Hey,” Steve says, his voice softer. “You’re right. You always were, every time. Every time I thought something wasn’t possible, you went ahead and did it. I’m sorry for ever doubting you.”

Diana stares at him.

“What?” Steve asks, when the silence stretches on too long, and Diana still hasn’t spoken.

Diana smiles then, but her mouth is trembling, and Steve realises, with a start of horror, that she looks like she’s going to cry.

“Diana?” he asks, worried.

“I have missed you so much,” she says, her voice unsteady. “Ninety-nine years, Steve, and there is not a day I have not thought of you. I never had the chance to say it, but Steve: I love you too.”

The rest of the table is staring, but Steve can’t bring himself to care. 

“Really?” he asks, a bubble of happiness forming inside his chest.

“Steve Trevor, do you doubt my word?”

“Never,” he assures her, a grin breaking across his face. Diana smiles back, despite unshed tears.

The rest of the group at the table looks varying shades of interested or uncomfortable with being present at this intimate moment.

Diana seems to notice, because she swipes at her eyes with one hand, and when she next speaks, it is in a steadier voice.

“Come,” she says. “We must get you settled in. Identification documents are being arranged for you as we speak, but that may take a few days. First, we must get you clothes.” A smile lurks at the corner of her mouth.

Steve understands why.

“This is going to be a role-reversal, isn’t it?” he asks rhetorically. “Well, I’m depending on you to make sure I don’t look too shabby by the time we’re done.”

Diana’s lurking smile blooms into something wide and lovely.

“You can rely on me, Steve.” Ignoring the looks she’s getting from the other people nearby, Diana offers Steve her arm with a smile. He takes it.

Steve has no idea what he’s letting himself into, but he knows one thing: wherever Diana goes, he will follow. 


	3. Shopping Montage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote some more. Still really tired, so again, I don't know if I'll write any more of this... but I'll try.

** Chapter Three **

It turns out that Diana lives in Paris.

“The city of romance,” Steve remarks, looking around at everything there is to see. People dress differently – there’s barely a hat in sight, and beneath the open coats that the women wear is a lot less clothing than he’s used to – and the vehicles which go zooming by are as sleek and futuristic as Diana’s plane, but otherwise, the city isn’t as much of a shock as the Watchtower was.

Steve is still having trouble with that memory of the Earth suspended in nothing but bleak empty space, terrifying as it was. Man, he suspects, was never meant to venture beyond his own place in creation. The fact that the people of Diana’s organisation apparently venture into the heavens on a frequent basis is astounding. 

He wonders what other shocks the future – no, the present, he reminds himself – has in store for him.

Diana smiles, unaware of his thoughts.

“The city of lovers,” she agrees, taking Steve’s hand in hers.

Steve has to ask.

“Is that what we are?”

Diana turns her head towards him, her expression serious.

“Is that what you want to be?”

Steve hesitates on his answer. He’d ask Diana to marry him today, if he thought she’d say yes. But it seems rather presumptuous to do so. For all that she has mourned him for almost a century, for all that he has never met a woman he wanted to marry besides Diana, Steve is aware that they don’t really know one another all that well.

But he would like them to. And maybe, this time around, they’ll have the time to get to know each other.

“I’d like you in my life however I can get you,” he says, with more honesty than he’s used to – but then, something about Diana brings that out in him.

Diana’s expression softens, and she smiles.

“Lovers, then,” she says, and they continue walking.

“So what is it you do for a living?” Steve asks, after they’ve walked in silence for a little while.

“I am a conservator at the Louvre,” says Diana.

“The Louvre? Really?” Steve is impressed, but a little confused. “But what about... you know – Wonder Woman?” He makes a face as he uses the moniker.

Diana huffs a laugh.

“Wonder Woman is a superhero,” she says, and when he looks blank, clarifies. “Someone with extraordinary powers or abilities who chooses to save others, and sometimes the world. Diana Prince, on the other hand, is an ordinary woman who is rather good at her job.”

Steve gets it.

“They don’t know that you’re Wonder Woman. That you’re an Amazon.” 

“No, they don’t,” Diana agrees. “And I am more than an Amazon, as it turns out.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, and she elaborates.

“My Mother lied to me. She did not fashion me from clay,” and Diana makes a face, half-amusement, half-embarrassment at her own naivete, “but conceived me in a more... traditional way. Zeus was my father.”

Steve absorbs that.

“So not the world’s best piece of pottery, huh?” he says, teasing, and Diana shoves him gently.

“My point,” she says, “is that I am a goddess.”

“Yeah, well,” and Steve’s mouth curls in a half-smile, “I kind of knew that already.”

Diana sighs, but sends him a fond look.

The two of them walk into what is clearly a department store. Diana takes Steve to the men’s wear section. Steve stares at the clothing on offer.

“Men wear these?” he says, looking dubiously at a selection of brightly coloured shirts which have barely any sleeve and not a single button among them. They’re soft and stretchy to the touch, instead of stiff with starch.

“T-shirts? Yes,” says Diana. “They’re considered casual wear.”

Steve thinks about this.

“How about something less... casual, then.”

Diana smiles in amusement at his disdain for these ‘t-shirts.’ But Steve is used to keeping himself covered up in public, the way any decent gentlemen does – did – and he knows that wearing a t-shirt would leave him feeling severely underdressed. Besides... they’re not exactly stylish attire, are they?

Steve follows Diana over to another area of the store, where long-sleeved button-up shirts are sitting on the shelves. These are more acceptable. 

Steve picks out the shirts that look the least offensive to the eye – although Diana insists he buy at least one in bright blue, ‘ _to match your eyes,’_ she says – and then some pairs of trousers from where they sit folded on a different set of shelves.

“Come, you must trust these on,” says Diana, heading straight for a discreetly-located doorway.

“Wait, you’re not – you can’t go in there,” says Steve, alarmed. “What if you see someone, you know–”

“Getting dressed?” Diana asks. “Steve, that is why there are individual cubicles in the dressing room. Besides,” and a grin appears on her face, “it is nothing I have not seen before.”

“That’s not the point. I’m sure none of the men in there want to be seen by a beautiful woman when they’re–”

“ _En deshabille?”_ Diana suggests, her eyes dancing.

“Exactly,” says Steve, although he’s not entirely sure what _en deshabille_ means. He knows some French, but not that particular phrase. “It’s disconcerting.”

Diana pats his arm, and then continues striding for the dressing rooms. Steve resigns himself.

To his surprise, however, none of the men in the dressing room bat an eye at her presence. Steve steps into a cubicle and shuts the door. As he gets changed, he hears one of the other men in the dressing room ask Diana for her opinion on his outfit. More surprising is the advice that Diana offers, as though knowledgeable about such things – and Steve reminds himself, yet again, that it has been nearly a hundred years since Diana first entered the modern world. The fact that she understands current fashions well enough to dispense advice shouldn’t be surprising.

The shirts and trousers are cut differently to the ones that Steve is used to, but he tries them on anyway. Then he pulls open the door.

“How do I look?” he asks Diana, raising an eyebrow.

Diana runs an appreciative eye over him.

“Very dashing,” she assures him. Steve looks at his reflection in the mirror. 

Dashing. Okay. He can work with that.

He shuts the dressing room cubicle door to get changed back out of the new clothes he’s picked out.

After Steve has tried on the shirts and trousers, Diana has him try on jackets and coats. After that, she insists that he try on a pair of something called ‘jeans,’ which are made of a rougher, more durable material than Steve’s usual trousers.

Steve tries them on. Just getting into them takes some effort. 

“Are you sure I need a pair of these?” he calls out.

“Positive!” Diana calls back. “They are a staple of casual-wear, Steve. Everyone wears them.”

“Maybe I don’t want to look casual,” Steve grumbles to himself, in a voice that _should_ be too low for anyone to hear. But Diana responds anyway.

“Steve. Give them a chance.”

Once he has them on, Steve stares at his reflection in the mirror. The jeans are almost indecently form-fitting, but once he gets past that, he has to admit... he looks pretty good in them.

“Now we need to get you some pyjamas,” says Diana, and they go looking for some.

Steve stares at the pyjamas Diana hands him. They have yellow ducks on them. He stares accusingly at Diana, who is speechless with laughter at the expression on his face.

“Somehow, I don’t think these represent the height of men’s fashion in pyjamas,” Steve says dryly, which sets Diana off laughing again. Instead, Steve finds a set in a sedate shade of navy blue.

He and Diana are finally ready to leave the department store nearly two and a half hours later. The clerk hands them several bags made of some unfamiliar material. 

“What is this?” Steve asks Diana, rubbing the edge of the bag between his fingers curiously.

“Plastic,” says Diana. “It is ubiquitous in the modern world.”

Diana says this so carelessly, as though Steve isn’t accustomed to his era being considered _the modern world_. But the way that Diana says it implies that Steve’s time is... not.

Steve doesn’t know how to take that. He stays silent.

They almost reach the department store doors when Steve realises what he’s missing.

“Wait!” Steve says, stopping mid-stride. “I need a hat.”

“Steve, it is fine. No one wears hats anymore.”

“I do,” Steve says firmly, and this time it is Diana who follows him as he turns around and heads back inside.

Steve finds the perfect hat, and tries it on. He grins at Diana, who smiles back. 

This time, they actually leave the store. 


	4. Catching Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, I'm afraid! My muse has deserted me for this one. :/ I hope you have enjoyed this fic.

** Chapter Four **

The next few months are an overwhelming blur. Everything is so different, so new, that Steve barely manages to take it all in.

He lives in an apartment with Diana, and even that is different – the apartment is blindingly white, from the tiled floor to the walls and ceiling to the shiny bench-tops, the only exception being the carpet in the bedrooms, which is an attractive deep teal colour. Even the electric lighting in the apartment is brilliantly white; so very different from the dim yellow lighting Steve is used to. 

In this new century, it seems, there are machines for everything. There is an electric refrigerator in the kitchen instead of an ice-box, an electric stove instead of a wood-burning one, and something called a microwave, which hums and glows ominously as it heats the food Diana puts inside it. There is even a special device just for _toasting bread_. 

Steve doesn’t mind, exactly – even if the toaster occasionally expels pieces of toast across the kitchen bench-top and onto the floor – but he can’t help but notice that people now have machines for everything. All the things Steve is used to doing by hand, or hiring someone to do, machines now do instead. There is a machine for washing dishes. There is a machine for laundry. There is a machine for cleaning floors.

There is also something called a television, which is like a miniature film theatre, but with colour and sound. There is also a DVD player, which allows the television to play films. But Diana eases him onto both of those.

She introduces him to the CD player first.

Steve watches, brow furrowed in confusion as Diana places a small disk-shaped object into a tray in the machine. A moment later the tray retracts. The whole thing looks nothing like Steve’s Victrola.

A moment later a voice begins singing _‘do do do, do do do.’_ Steve nearly jumps out of his skin.

“What–?” he asks, and belatedly realises that the music is coming from the two objects on either side of the CD player. The sound is so crisp and clear that for a moment, Steve thought that there had to be someone else in the apartment with them.

It’s at that moment that the music bursts into full swing.

_ ‘This hit, that ice-cold, Michelle Pfeiffer that white gold. This one for them hood girls, them good girls, straight masterpieces. Stylin’, wilin’, living it up in the city. Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent, gotta kiss myself I’m so pretty.’ _

“What _is_ this?” asks Steve, wide-eyed.

“That is _Uptown Funk_ , Steve. Over two billion people have listened to it on Youtube.”

Steve doesn’t ask what Youtube is. His mind is stuck on the ‘two billion.’

“You mean _million_ , don’t you?”

“No, Steve.” Diana’s smile is sympathetic. “I mean _billion_.” 

Steve gropes for the nearest chair, finds it, and sits down abruptly.

_ ‘If you sexy, then flaunt it,’ _ the music tells him. The lyrics, the melody, the percussive beat – Steve has never in his life heard anything like it. It might have been a revelation if it wasn’t all too much.

Diana takes one look at his face, and presses a button on the CD player. The music stops.

“Maybe we should take this a little slower,” she says. Steve, still wide-eyed and shaking in his seat, is profoundly grateful.

As it turns out, rock’n’roll is more his style than _Uptown Funk_. Diana buys him a box-set of rock’n’roll CDs, and Steve works his way through all the classics – _(We’re Gonna) Rock Around the Clock, Rockin’ Robin, Wake Up Little Susie, Yakety Yak, Roll Over Beethoven, Good Golly Miss Molly, Johnny B. Goode, Whole Lot of Shakin’ Going On,_ and so many, many more.

“I don’t know who this Elvis is, but he’s got a real energy to his music,” Steve tells Diana, as the room fills with the sound of Elvis singing _‘everybody in the whole cell block was dancing to the Jailhouse Rock.’_ Steve doubts that the song is an accurate portrayal of life in prison, but he can’t deny the tune is catchy.

“Many people would agree with you,” says Diana, the toe of her shoe tapping against the tiled floor in time with the music. She is smiling fondly at Steve. “His nickname is the King of Rock and Roll.”

Diana teaches Steve how to dance to all the songs – dances which are a little like some of the ragtime dances Steve learned back before the war, all movement and energy, instead of the slow, stately dances that his parents learned like the waltz and the quadrille. Steve and Diana’s laughter fills the apartment as they whirl and jump and spin in time with the music. 

Steve also has his books. Lots of them.

The first weekend after Steve was brought back to life, after a lonely, very boring two days while Diana was at work, they go out to the nearest second-hand bookstores and buy up a collection of cheap books for Steve to read when Diana is out. Steve looks through yellowed, falling-apart paperbacks for books that look like something he’d like to read. 

To begin with, he picks out some Arthur Conan Doyle novels. It turns out that the man continued writing for quite some time after Steve was killed, and Steve has a lot of Sherlock Holmes to catch up on. He’s about to add to his book pile another book by Doyle called _The Lost World,_ which sounds promising, but Diana makes a face, and tells him, “That book is hideously outdated.”

“So am I,” Steve retorts. “And this has dinosaurs.” That, he thinks, is surely a sign of an interesting read.

Diana purses her lips.

“The dinosaurs are not accurate either,” she says, and then, “You like dinosaurs?” 

Steve shrugs.

“I saw some of their skeletons in the Hall of Extinct Monsters in the Smithsonian, once. It made an impression.”

“If you wish to read about dinosaurs, that is not the book to read,” says Diana firmly.

“Oh?” Steve raises an eyebrow in challenge.

Diana drags him over to the ‘science fiction’ section, past Jules Verne and H.G. Wells, and many other authors whose names, unlike Verne and Wells, are not familiar. Diana’s gaze scans the shelves, until with a triumphant smile she pulls out a thick book. 

“ _Jurassic Park_ ,” Steve reads off the front cover, which has a picture of a dinosaur skeleton on it.

“When you have read it, we can watch the film,” Diana promises, handing him the book. “It is worth watching. But remind me to explain more to you about computers, before you read the book.”

Steve decides to trust her judgement, and adds _Jurassic Park_ to his pile of books.

(Much, much later, when Steve has more or less adjusted to living in the 21st century, they watch the _Jurassic Park_ film. 

“ _Holy shit!”_ Steve yells during the kitchen scene. He doesn’t even realise that he’s clutching at Diana like a child with their teddy bear.

Diana smirks.

“I told you this one was worth watching,” she says.

“I am so very glad that those things are extinct,” says Steve fervently, watching the raptors stalk around on-screen.)

Steve also adds some Edgar Rice Burroughs novels to the pile of books he’s carrying; he was always fond of Tarzan. As he looks through the shelves, he discovers copies of _The Jungle Book_ and _Captains Courageous_ by Rudyard Kipling. Steve has fond memories of his grandfather reading him the former when he was a small boy, in the evenings before Steve was packed off to bed. Steve decides to add both books to his collection.

He finds Diana in the general fiction section, flipping through a book. _gods behaving badly_ , the cover says, without any capital letters in the title. This century is strange.

“Interesting book?” Steve asks. The way Diana is frowning begs the question.

“Perhaps,” says Diana. “It is about the gods living in today’s world and sharing a London townhouse.”

Steve laughs, but then realises that Diana is still frowning. He wipes the smile off his face.

“Is, uh, is that a problem?” he asks.

“The portrayal is disrespectful,” says Diana. “The gods gave their lives fighting for humanity’s existence. To lampoon them like this...”

“Oh,” says Steve. Put like that, it does seem a little disrespectful. “I see what you mean. But you’ve got to remember that to most people, the gods are just stories, Diana. And people tell and re-tell stories in many different ways. It’s part of being human.” 

Steve stops then, because Diana is looking at him with a thoughtful expression, as though Steve is imparting great wisdom.

He decides to say one more thing on the topic.

“Besides, from the stories, the gods sound like they’re just as flawed and imperfect as the rest of us, despite their powers.”

“I suppose that you are not entirely wrong,” Diana says, a wry twist to her mouth.

“Thanks,” says Steve dryly. He re-adjusts his grip on the stack of books he’s carrying. “Are you ready to go? Because these are fairly heavy.”

“Let me help you,” says Diana, taking half the pile from him. She holds them as though they weigh nothing. Steve is reminded, yet again, that he’s in love with a literal Greek goddess.

“Thanks,” is all he says, and he smiles at her. Diana smiles back, and Steve doesn’t need anyone to tell him how lucky he is to be here, sharing a life with the woman he loves.

* * *

Once Diana feels that Steve has adequately grasped how to use the various appliances around the apartment, about two months after his resurrection, she buys him a modern telephone.

The tiny rectangle is a marvel of technology. Diana tells him that it can be used to make telephone calls, send textual messages which arrive at their destination in an instant, take photographs, and surf the internet.

Steve stares down at his ‘phone’ in some trepidation. He isn’t sure he’s ready for this.

“What is the internet, and why would I want to ‘surf’ it?” he asks. Diana gives him a long look.

“What?” Steve asks. They have these moments regularly. Diana will use some common idiom or mention some new technology with which Steve is unfamiliar, and Steve will question it, at which point Diana will belatedly realise that, yet again, Steve is in over his head and he has no idea what Diana is talking about.

“Surfing is a kind of sport which takes place in the water,” Diana says finally. “But to ‘surf the internet’ is a slightly outdated term for finding information using the internet, which is a... virtual space.”

Steve has no idea what any of that means. He says so.

In response, Diana gets out something which she calls a laptop computer, unfolding it and turning it on. Steve has seen her using it before, in the evenings and on weekends, but he’s never really asked what it’s for. It has a flat screen like the television. As Steve watches, text and images appear on it.

“The internet is a network of machines where information is stored,” Diana tries to explain, as Steve looks over her shoulder at the screen. “Text, images, film – all these things can be accessed via the internet. The internet spans the entire globe, and has billions of users, all of them accessing or exchanging data.”

“Wow,” says Steve. The idea is mind-boggling, but exciting. “Can you show me?”

Diana smiles, and brings up more images and text on the screen.

She shows Steve something called Youtube, which she says is a website anyone might use, to add or watch videos. She shows Steve a video of Elvis dancing as he sings _Jailhouse Rock_ , a video that appears to be nothing more than footage of several kittens doing kitten-like things, and then, once she has shown Steve how to type into the little search box and navigate the results which come up, she lets him have a turn at it.

Steve is enthralled.

Diana shows him several other websites, including the one for the newspaper she subscribes to. Most newspapers now have gone digital now, she explains; more people read electronic versions on their computer than paper copies.

Steve has been reading the physical edition of one of the big English-language papers every morning for the last two months. He looks at Diana in sudden suspicion.

“Diana,” he says slowly, “did you set up a non-electronic subscription just for me?”

Diana only smiles at him.

“I thought that you would like to sit around and read the paper over breakfast,” she says, and Steve remembers their conversation in Veld – about what people do when there is no war. There is a sudden lump in his throat.

“Thanks,” he says, when he can speak again.

“It is no trouble,” says Diana, which seems to be the modern way of accepting thanks rather than saying ‘you’re welcome.’

“Thanks anyway,” he says, and means it.

It is while Steve is reading the ‘digital edition’ of the paper on-screen that he sees a term that confuses him.

“Diana,” he says, brow wrinkling, “what’s ‘gay marriage?’” From the context, ‘gay’ seems to mean something other than ‘happy.’

Diana looks up from her book.

“It refers to the marriage of homosexuals,” she says. “The word ‘gay’ is slang for homosexual.”

Steve tries to process this.

“Marriage?” he echoes. “You mean... to other homosexuals?”

Diana puts down her book. 

“On Themyscira, the union of two women was very common. We did not call it marriage, but it was seen as a sacred thing. I am glad that the rest of the planet has caught up.”

“Oh,” is all that Steve says. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s known of homosexuality, of course; he’s heard stories of men being caught with other men, during the war, and being punished for it. Scientific knowledge in Steve’s time proclaimed that the invert was the result of biology gone wrong; religious knowledge proclaimed that such activity was a profound sin.

Steve, for his part, had felt that it was none of his business what people got up to behind closed doors.

But Diana seems to be waiting for an answer, watching Steve very intently.

“Well... good for them?” he tries.

Diana relaxes, and goes back to her book. 

A question occurs to Steve.

“Wait... did _you_ ever...”

Diana understands the question, even though Steve trails off before he finishes it.

“On Themyscira? No. All the women there had known me since infancy,” she says, which is understandable – Steve would feel weird about courting someone who had known him since he was a baby, too. 

But Diana goes on to add, “Here? Yes.”

“Oh,” Steve says again. Then: “What happened?”

Diana shrugs.

“She met someone else.”

“And she left you?” Steve asks. Diana nods. 

Steve shakes his head.

“I can’t imagine how anyone could want to leave you,” he says, with perfect sincerity. “You’re amazing.”

Diana smiles.

“So are you, Steve Trevor,” she says, and her smile is so bright that words tumble from Steve’s lips.

“Marry me,” he blurts out, and it takes him a second of Diana staring at him for him to realise what he’s just said. He backtracks slightly, suddenly nervous.

“I mean, if you want to,” he tacks on. “I just... I love you, and I can’t imagine ever wanting anyone else now I’ve met you.” 

Diana is still staring at him, her eyes wide. Steve can feel himself sweating.

Finally, after an agonising moment of complete silence, Diana starts smiling again. Steve has never seen her look so happy.

“ _Yes_ ,” she says, and Steve feels like he’s about to burst with the sudden swell of joy in his chest.

“Well,” he says, inarticulate in the face of how happy he feels. “Good.” 


End file.
